Adapting
by Hannahmayski
Summary: Shin-ah finds people that actually care and Jae-ha proves to be a better brother than anyone thought. Full Summary inside. Companion piece to Brothers and Nightmares but that doesn't need to be read first!


**This fic went in the opposite direction I wanted it to go but I thought I'd post it anyway! Enjoy!**

 **SUMMARY: All the hope had been stomped out of the Blue Dragon many, many years ago. There was no point after all. It was better to accept that this was how Shin-ah was going to be living out the rest of his life than to wait with ridiculous optimism that someone would see past the blood thirsty monster and see the human in him.**

 **If there was any human left in him at all.**

 **If there was any human in him in the first place.**

 **Or**

 **Shin-ah finds people that actually care and Jae-ha proves to be a better brother than anyone thought.**

The isolation hadn't bothered the Seiryuu all that much because he hadn't known anything different. Loneliness had been his only constant.

He'd had his predecessor, Ao, up until the tender age of four and after that, it was he alone with his thoughts.

He needed to stay to protect the villagers but they were so scared of him, scared of his eyes. To the villagers, he wasn't human. He was nothing more than a monster. He was just a tool. He held no special value and no special purpose in life.

He didn't even have a name.

He'd longed for friends when he was a child. Children were always frightfully optimistic and hopeful.

All the hope had been stomped out of the Blue Dragon many, many years ago. There was no point after all. It was better to accept that this was how Shin-ah was going to be living out the rest of his life than to wait with ridiculous optimism that someone would see past the bloodthirsty monster and see the human in him.

If there was any human left in him at all.

If there was any human in him in the first place.

He was never going to get friends. No one was going to care about him. The concept of friendship was locked away in the depths of his memories.

He'd grown used to the silence. He'd grown used to the isolation.

It didn't really matter what happened to him. No one would miss him. No one would mourn for him. It wasn't even guaranteed that he'd be buried. The villagers might just leave him to rot. A monster doesn't deserve the treatment of a human.

Ao was the first enigma that he'd faced. She was such a small animal. She fit so easily into his palm of his hand. A monster like him couldn't look after such a fragile creature. Despite his best efforts the small animal refused to leave his side.

He felt so sorry for the small creature. He'd never looked after anything in all the time that he'd breathed air and now such a small thing had decided the caves were her home. He could only try his best.

After a few months of Shin-ah trying to prompt the small creature away to the forest where there was more light and food and freedom than the suffocating confines of his cave with no such luck, Seiryuu supposed he had to give the small animal a name.

She was so precious and kind staying by a monster's side. She deserved a name at the very least.

The first problem was the Seiryuu had never named anything before. Such an important task could not be taken lightly. The second problem was the Seiryuu didn't know any names. He'd overheard a few names from the villages but he couldn't use their names because they were the villages and he was a monster. He couldn't take their names.

The only name he could think of was Ao. He wasn't sure if Ao was the kind of name he should give a squirrel as cute and precious as her but he had no other options.

Ao didn't need him to try and speak, something which he was grateful for. Talking wore him to the bone. He was never sure of what to say or when to say it. The only facial expressions he really understood were anger and fear.

The Seiryuu knew he was nothing more than a weak monster. He struggled to even talk. Only monsters would struggle with something so _easy_ so _simple_ for everyone else.

Yona, Yoon, Hak and Kija were the second enigma.

Yona, a small young girl who faced Shin-ah's eyes as though he couldn't kill her without moving a finger. She smiled at him like he was her friend. She held his hand like she cared. She gave him a name as though he were human.

Hak was rough but he always smiled at Shin-ah and didn't seem put off when Shin-ah could not return one. He was strong and wielded the spear as if it were a part of him.

Yoon was small and disliked fighting. He commanded respect and yet he poured out affection wherever he went. Yoon was smart too. He always read the markings on the pages of what Kija told him were books to help him with cooking and medicine and so much more.

Kija was his brother. His brother the Hakuryuu. Kija didn't think of himself to be a monster. He was proud, so, so proud of the dragon hand he'd bestowed. Kija would always explain the things that Shin-ah didn't understand. Sometimes Kija would look sad as he tried to explain but he never yelled so Shin-ah supposed it was okay.

His immediate thought of these people was disbelief. People like him weren't loved. Weren't cared for. People like him didn't mean anything.

When Jae-ha joined their strange group, Shin-ah didn't know what to do. The Ryokuryuu was tall and strong and much older than Shin-ah. And Jae-ha wanted oh so desperately to see the enchanting eyes of the Seiryuu.

Words never came naturally to the youngest dragon. He always had to _think, think, think_. He was always scared of saying the wrong thing and watching the only people who really cared slowly fade away. Pushed away by Shin-ah's own uselessness.

Sometimes when he spoke Kija and Yona would smile with looks of sadness. Shin-ah didn't know if their sadness was from. Was it what he had said? How he had said it? Because he'd spoken in the first place?

His small heartfelt apologies had only worsened their sadness.

Shin-ah didn't speak for a while after that.

The forest was a calming place and Shin-ah was drawn to it. His late night journeys didn't have a defiant start. Occasionally, Shin-ah disappeared from the tent that was far too small for five broad shouldered warriors, with the intention to enjoy the quiet that he couldn't help but long for.

It was wrong.

Shin-ah had only just escaped the agonising isolation that had held him captive for his entire life only to long for it to return. These people had saved him from the solitude. Pulled him from the crippling darkness and shown love and affection to nothing more than a monster. And here he was, seeking out the poisonous solitude and deafening silence once again.

He didn't deserve the princess, he didn't deserve Hak and Yoon and he didn't deserve the dragons.

The midnight journeys were something he loved and he hated himself for it.

The first time Jae-ha joined him Shin-ah nearly pulled the sword strapped to his back on the Ryokuryuu's neck. Luckily he'd realised who it was before he'd struck the Ryokuryuu down.

He felt ever so grateful yet unjustly annoyed for Jae-ha's presence leaving him in a swirling state of confusion. He should grateful for these people in his life. He should be in their debt for as long as he lived. Yet, he still yearned for the solitude.

Neither dragon spoke through the long hours they spent in the dark.

Despite Jae-ha's constant and never ending attempts at getting Shin-ah to remove his mask he never did so when Jae-ha found him alone in the dark. And no matter what Jae-ha never tried to force him to talk. If he wanted to voice his thoughts it was entirely Shin-ah's own choice. They'd sit for hours in a strange but comforting silence.

Each time Shin-ah snuck away in a state of self-hatred and disappointment in himself Jae-ha would follow. They never spoke even when the thick walls Shin-ah held up would crack. They never spoke even when the sun rose above the trees.

The one time Jae-ha had broken the silence and pulled Shin-ah from his poisonous thoughts was no special night. Nothing particularly bad had happened that day but the crushing weight of sadness would not leave his chest.

Jae-ha shuffled closer, not touching or invasive but close enough so that Shin-ah would feel the calming presence of him.

"I know you probably won't believe me but it does get better."

Silence descended on them and Shin-ah couldn't find it in him to breathe.

"I get it. Being suddenly surrounded by people who love you unconditionally…" he paused and heaved a long sigh, struggling to form the words "It doesn't make sense at first."

Tears – hot and thick poured fast, seeping out from under the mask. Before Shin-ah could do a thing to stop them Jae-ha rubbed his back and suddenly the tears turned to sobs.

The hand on his back wrapped around his shoulders pulling him to Jae-ha's chest.

"It's not fair what you or I had to go through but you're here now, it'll take time but you'll feel better. We're all going to help you get through this, alright? You don't have to deal with this alone."

Shin-ah wondered how he'd ever repay Jae-ah for his kindness. He forced himself to inhale and _breathe_ **.**

"Thank you, Jae-ha." His voice was hoarse and strained with emotion not to mention a lack of use but he got out what he wanted to say.

He stayed, pressed against Jae-ha's chest, calmed by the steady beat of his heart.

Jae-ha's grip tightened "I guess it's what comes with been brothers. Kija would be proud."

Shin-ah finally felt as though his heart was no longer trying to separate itself from his body and his lungs weren't trying to rebel against him.

Jae-ha was his brother. His voice, soothing and a steady rock in the chaos of Shin-ah's mind. Jae-ha understood him. Jae-ha wasn't angry, he wasn't disappointed. Shin-ah expected to be cast to the side again, put back in a cave where he couldn't hurt anyone else but instead he was met with comforting words, gentle touches and a reminder that now, he had a family.

From here, there was only one way to go and that way was up.


End file.
